


The Ministry Meddles with the Institution of Marriage

by Aynn_Ward



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied Mpreg, M/M, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:23:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aynn_Ward/pseuds/Aynn_Ward
Summary: As odd as it sounds, the Ministry is interfering—yet again! This time it’s in the form of creating a marriage law, which forces the magical citizens of the United Kingdom to marry one anther—a.s.a.p. In some cases, though, to people they don’t even like. Yay!





	The Ministry Meddles with the Institution of Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note. Okay. Another fic idea that went through my brain. Not at all original, but...well...yeah. Hope you like it. Please pardon the inconsistencies...I’m anything but perfect when it comes to that sort of stuff. *sigh*
> 
> Warning. Rated M for mature themes (sex toward the end) and language—ends with them producing offspring...so, if that’s not your thing (m-preg), then don’t read (though it’s not described at all).

Marriage Laws

In an attempt to even out bloodlines and bring the wizarding population together, the following marriage laws will come into affect following each witch/wizard’s twenty-fifth year of birth:

~ Pure-bloods have 90 days to choose and marry either a half-blood or a Muggle-born. After that time, the pure-blood’s name will be submitted into the marriage pool, where it can be chosen by any half-blood or Muggle-born to fulfill the marriage law.

~ Half-bloods have 180 days to choose and marry either a Muggle-born or a pure-blood. After that time, the half-blood’s name will be submitted into the marriage pool, where it can be chosen by any Muggle-born or pure-blood to fulfill the marriage law.

~ Muggle-borns, as always, are free to marry whomever they wish, providing the marriage takes place within one year. After that time, the Muggle-born’s name will be entered into the marriage pool and arbitrarily paired with the others who have not yet been married.

For those who have already passed their twenty-fifth year the previously described laws take affect henceforth (with some exceptions—see regulations printed in full on page thirteen).

Further note: ANYONE refusing to comply with these news laws shall be rounded up, stripped of his/her magic, and sent out into the Muggle world to survive (or not) on his/her own.

Good luck and CONGRATULATIONS to everyone!

-oOo-

“Pfft! This is just—”

“Ridiculous?” Ron said, trying to finish Hermione’s sentence for her.

“No,” she quickly responded. “Well, yes, it is, but...no. What I mean is, this is the Ministry interfering...again!” With that, she slammed the flat of her hand on the table and glared down at the Daily Prophet that was spread out before her.

“Well, you and Ron are pretty much safe,” Ginny put in.

Ron frowned. “How do you mean?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You two have each other, so all you have to do is get married and the law is fulfilled for the both of you.”

Ron nodded and grinned. “Right.”

“Yay for us,” Hermione ground out sarcastically.

Ron’s smile faded. “W-what do you mean? I thought...I thought you wanted to marry me.”

“I do, but...not yet,” the bushy-haired woman said as she reached out and put her hand on Ron’s. “And certainly not because those idiots in the Ministry found a way to pass a law forcing such a thing on people. It’s just...this is sooo wrong,” she persisted.

Ron let out a sigh of relief. “You’re right.”

“Of course, I am.”

“You don’t think Kingsley had anything to do with this, do you?” Ginny asked, then pinched her lip between her teeth.

Hermione shrugged. “Merlin, I hope not. I should send him an owl.”

“What about me?” Harry asked, frowning. “Apparently I only have six months from last week to choose someone.”

“You’ll marry Ginny, of course,” said Ron, grinning happily. “Then we’ll really be brothers...in-laws. Whatever. Yeah?”

Hermione looked up from the Daily Prophet and stared at her boyfriend—as did Ginny.

“Ron, I’m gay,” Harry reminded his friend. “As much as I love Gin, she doesn’t do it for me at all. No offense,” he said, his eyes going to his ex-girlfriend.

The red-haired woman shrugged. “None taken,” she said—then grinned. “You can’t help it that you like cock and that I don’t have one.”

Ron’s face screwed up. “Ginny. Ew.”

Rolling her eyes, Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother.

“Well...George then,” Ron suggested, looking back at his best friend.

Both Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes.

“Um...Ron...George isn’t gay,” Harry said. “And I suspect Angelina would have a problem with him suddenly dumping her to marry me.

“Right. Good point,” Ron said, frowning. “How about Charlie? He’s gay.”

“And no longer under the jurisdiction of the Ministry since he’s immigrated to Romania to be with his dragons permanently,” Hermione interjected. “Honestly, Ronald, don’t you pay attention?”

“Er...I guess not. So then, does Harry have to marry a bird?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, but he still has to choose someone on the availability lists and get married.”

They all leaned in and looked at the list. There was no marker to let them know who was gay and who wasn’t, but they were aware of a few.

“How about McLaggen?” Ginny suggested. “He’s gay and...he’s quite fit.”

Ron snorted. “And a complete prat.”

“Cormac’s gay?” Hermione questioned.

Ginny nodded. “He came out last year. His parents were furious, because they’d just told him who they expected him to marry.”

“Hmm. Arranged marriages are so barbaric,” Hermione complained. “I can’t believe our society has come to this.” She shook her head.

“There’s always Dennis Creevey? What do you think about him, Harry?” Ginny continued, trying to be helpful.

Harry grimaced. “Eww. No.”

“How about Wood?” Ron asked. “You always liked Wood, right mate?”

Ginny snickered. “Well, not always.”

Harry immediately flushed crimson.

And Hermione snorted, causing Ron stare at his sister in confusion—for just a second—then gape at her. “Geez Gin, I didn’t mean it like that and...and you know it.”

Ginny giggled at this.

“I think he’d rather marry his fiancé, Ronald,” Hermione said without looking up from the paper and completely ignoring the siblings’ shenanigans. “Wood, I mean. He’s just proposed to that American bloke...the one on his Quidditch team,” she said, finally ripping her eyes from the newspaper.

Ron frowned. “Right. Well, that’s it for Gryffindor...as far as we know.”

“There are plenty of other Gryffindors,” Ginny said.

“Gay ones?” asked Ron.

Ginny nodded.

“Like who?”

“Never mind, Ronald,” Hermione interrupted, sounding exasperated with her boyfriend. “Okay, so...who should we look at next, Harry?” she asked her friend. “Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin?”

Harry shrugged. “Does it matter? Oh Merlin, I’m doomed.”

“No you’re not, mate,” Ron said. “We’ll find you someone. Someone good. Just not a snake.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Slytherin House, Ron. Don’t be so judgmental,” Hermione chided.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Okay,” he said derisively. “Hey, I hear Zabini’s bisexual, so...there’s him.”

Ginny groaned. “Zabini’s such a poser, even if he were gay, you wouldn’t want him.”

“I said bisexual, not gay,” Ron corrected his sister.

“Whatever.”

“Whatever’s right,” said Harry. “Did I mention that I’m doomed?”

-oOo-

Sitting at the dining room table with his parents, after having finished quite a nice meal, Draco stared at his father. “What now?”

“The Ministry has come up with another ludicrous law. A marriage law. Pure-bloods, in an attempt to dilute our blood, are expected to choose a half-blood or Muggle-born bride and get married within ninety days or your twenty-fifth birthday or your name will be put into a pool so that your bride can be chosen for you. You could end up with a horrible match and so I’m thinking you should make an effort to—”

“But...father, I’m gay.”

“Yes, I’m well aware, as you’ve told me on numerous occasions,” Lucius drawled. “Well, the law seems to take that into consideration.”

Draco sighed with relief. “So I don’t have to get married.”

“No, you still have to marry, Draco. Obviously you’ll choose a male on the list. I suppose I should have used the word husband instead of bride. My apologies.”

“I suggest that you decide on someone as soon as possible, darling,” Narcissa Malfoy added, “so that it’s your choice.”

Frowning, Draco nodded. “All right. Let’s see the list.”

“You seem to be taking this rather well, Draco,” Lucius said as he pushed the list across the table at his son.

Draco shrugged. “What choice have I?”

Lucius glanced at his wife, then turned his eyes back to his son.

“I’ve highlighted those who are known to be gay, darling,” the woman said.

“Thank you, mother, that’s very helpful,” Draco said as he looked over the list. Then he turned it over and frowned. “This is only the half-bloods.”

Lucius snorted. “No son of mine is going to marry a Muggle-born.”

Draco sighed. “Muggle-born. Half-blood. What’s the difference at this point? And I think that’s part of the reason why the Ministry is doing this, father...to marry that sort of prejudice out of us pure-bloods. Can’t very well look down on our mixed children, can we?”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed as he bit back a remark.

“There’s not much to choose from on this list. I’d like to see the Muggle-born list.” Just for shits and giggles, he added silently. He knew his request had to be making his father mad, but...why not look at all the names, right?

“Well, actually, darling...I was thinking that...maybe you’d consider...Harry Potter,” his mother said. “He’s a half-blood and—”

“You want me to marry Potter?! Draco interrupted, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. “Potter? The man I spent my entire time at Hogwarts trying to thwart...and failing to do so?” Draco shook his head.

“He’s quite powerful, dear, and...well, it would look good for the family.”

Draco stared at his mother for a second, then looked to his father. “Father?”

Lucius tried not to let his lips curl in disgust. “Your mother has a point, Draco. The family could use a boost in the eyes of the Ministry.”

Draco snorted. “Right. Because everyone’s savior, The Chosen One, Harry bloody Potter would agree to marry me in a second.”

“He might. He does owe me a life-debt. I could call it in,” Narcissa offered.

“No, Mother, I do not want you to use the life-debt. You should save that for an emergency and...the last person in the world that I’d like to marry would be Harry fucking Potter!

“Language,” his father admonished.

Draco managed to look contrite. “Sorry.”

“At least consider it, darling,” Narcissa said as she got to her feet. “Look the list over and choose someone before the choice is taken from you. If you leave it until the last minute, you might get saddled with someone...so far beneath you.”

Lucius snorted. “They’re all beneath him!”

Narcissa looked from her husband to her son. “Possibly so, but... I just want you to be happy, darling.”

Draco nodded. “I think I’ll skip dessert tonight,” he said. Standing, he folded the list and shoved it into his pocket. “And...I’m going out. There’s a new-ish club in London and...Blaise said something about heading over there.”

Frowning, Narcissa looked at her husband, then back at her son. “All right, dear. Be safe.”

Draco gave a small nod. “Always am,” he said, then left the room to go change.

-oOo-

It was fairly late by the time Harry was able to excuse himself from the Burrow. Even so, as soon as he was free of his friends’ well-intended smothering, Harry stopped by a Muggle liquor store and picked up a bottle of whisky, then hurried home to mope alone. But he didn’t end up being alone for long—a loud CLANG! rang, waking up old nasty Walburga Black and causing Harry to have to get up to answer the door.

“WHAT?!” he snarled as he yanked his front door open wide. “Oh. Um. Mrs Malfoy. Sorry. What can I do for you?”

“Good evening, Mr Potter,” she said, her eyes going to the glass of whisky in his hand. “I’m sorry to drop by without owling first, but... May I come in?”

Harry blinked, then shrugged and stepped back so that she could enter. Closing the door, he finished off his drink, then led the blonde woman into the Tapestry room, where poured himself more to drink, then promptly sat down in a plush-looking armchair—a chair he’d purchased and moved into the house himself.

“You’re welcome to sit,” he said, holding his hand out and gesturing at the other pieces of furniture that were intended for sitting. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” she said, her nose wrinkling up a bit. “How are you, Mr Potter?”

Frowning, the dark-haired man shrugged again. “Fine, I suppose...all things considered. You?”

“Things could be better,” she said flatly as she gracefully lowered herself onto the sofa across from Harry.

“Hmm. I’m sorry to hear that.” He wasn’t really, but...wasn’t it polite to say so?

“Yes, well, sometimes these things can’t be helped.”

Harry nodded. “Right. So...um...why are you here? I mean, you must want something, to have come all the way to London to see me.”

“Yes. I should be direct. I’m here about the marriage law. I’ve suggested to Draco that he should contact you with a proposal, but...he won’t do it.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Um. What now?”

“I said—”

“No. I heard you, but...what?”

“I realize this must come as a surprise, given yours and my dragon’s former relationship, but it makes sense.”

Harry snorted. “To you, it does. But, in what world do your dragon and I being married make any sort of sense? Malfoy hates me and I...don’t much like him either.”

“That’s a front. Neither of you hates the other and you both know it...deep down. I think it could be a good match.”

Harry laughed. “And what does Malfoy think of this little idea of yours?”

“Would you mind refraining from using our surname when referring to my son, Mr Potter? It confusing and sounds somewhat hostile.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want to sound hostile. Um. So, what does Draco think of your lovely little suggestion?”

“He didn’t seem overly pleased with it either, but I think his mind could be changed. You see, Lucius and I believe the Ministry is creating laws like this as a means to punish us. Well, not us exactly, but people like us.”

“People on the wrong side of the war, you mean,” Harry put in as he got up and started pacing. “I get it, but what does that have to do with me and...Draco? Getting married, I mean.”

“I think they want to punish pure-bloods for our views on half-bloods and Muggle-borns, but... He could do so much worse than you, Mr Potter.”

Harry chuckled. “I’m not sure whether that was an insult or a compliment.”

Narcissa pursed her lips, then stood up. “I’m not going to call in the life-debt, because Draco’s asked me not to. Forbid it, actually, but....” She sighed. “I hope you’ll consider him, Mr Potter. I know he was a thorn in your side, but try to remember the reasons for which he did what he did. He was trying to take care of his family—save our lives. Can you honestly say you’d do things differently, if you’d been put in his shoes?”

For a moment, Narcissa Malfoy watched her son’s former classmate—and then she stood, gave him a small nod of farewell, then turned and walked out.

-oOo-

Draco had made a habit of going out every night since he’d been informed that he’d have to start looking for a spouse. He’d even gone home with a few blokes—Muggles—testing the waters for compatibility. Part of him wanted to just run off and abandon the wizarding world and just be Draco the Muggle, so that he could do any fucking thing he wanted. But he knew his parents would be mortified. Merlin forbid he break any more rules!

Leaning in, Blaise hollered, “Draco, it won’t be that bad,” over the din of the music of the club they were in.

“Says the man with dual citizenship who doesn’t have to fucking comply with the Ministry’s bloody laws if he doesn’t pissing want to!” the blond snapped furiously.

The darker man chuckled. “Chill out, mate. You still have seventy-five days left and, if worst comes to worst...we’ll take off.”

Draco snorted.

“Besides, I saw some viable names on that list of half-bloods and Muggle-borns,” Blaise went on.

“Like who?”

“Higgs, for one.”

Draco shook his head. “No. Blonds do nothing for me.”

“All right. How about Wayne Hopkins?”

“Who?”

Blaise laughed. “Our year. Hufflepuff. Ring any bells?”

Draco shook his head again. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ as he looked at his friend. “Could we not do this now?”

“Fine, but time is running out, my friend.”

“Weren’t you just trying to elude that I still had time?”

The darker man laughed. “Well, yeah, to make you feel better.”

“You’re such a prat.”

“Hey. Speaking of prats,” Blaise said as he pointed across the thumping dance floor. “Look who just walked in.”

Draco followed his friend’s gesture and groaned. “Fucking Potter! Had to come here,” he griped as he watched the black-haired man maneuver himself through the sea of gyrating bodies. At one point he stopped and hugged someone, then kissed someone else, then handed his drink to yet another person and grabbed the hand of the man he’d kissed and pulled him toward the dance floor. “Did I tell you that mother suggested I proposition him?”

Blaise cackled a laugh. “What’d good old Lucius think of that?”

The blond glared. “He supported her suggestion. Said that such a union would be good for our reputation. As if!”

Blaise shrugged. “He is rather nice to look at. I mean...those eyes!”

“Fuck you, Blaise! Why don’t you marry him if you like his bloody eyes so much!”

The darker man laughed again. “Come on, Draco, let’s go down there and show those tossers how it’s done.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile as he allowed himself to be pulled.

-oOo-

Harry was pressed up against the bloke he’d been dancing with since he’d entered the club. They’d snogged a bit—right there on the dance floor—but now he needed to use the toilet. He thanked the guy for the...er...action and excused himself. Surprisingly, he managed to get in and out of the loo fairly quickly—despite the fact that many of the stalls were occupied with guys getting off—then downed a drink before weaving his way back into the crowd. He wasn’t dancing with anyone in particular, just sort of grinding on anyone who happened by, mostly with his eyes closed.

And then he felt someone at his back and leaned into him with a smile. Tipping his head back and letting it rest on the man’s shoulder, Harry threw himself into the song that was playing. Three songs later, they were still going at it.

“Here Potter, dance with my friend while I use the facilities,” the man said with humor in his tone as he gave Harry a gentle push—into Draco Malfoy’s chest.

Harry instantly stopped dancing and stared.

“Having fun, Potter?” the blond asked him without missing a beat.

“Um.”

“Your communication skills leave something to be desired, as always,” Draco snarked as he continued to dance.

Harry narrowed his eyes, but managed to relax enough to start moving again. “Hey Malfoy, what’re you doing in this part of town?” he asked as he stepped forward and draped his arms over the other man’s shoulders.

Clearly shocked, but not wanting to appear so, the blond moved his hands to Harry’s hips and leaned closer. “This is one of Blaise’s favorite clubs.”

“Oh. So I was dancing with Zabini then, huh?”

Draco gave a clipped nod. “And now you’re dancing with me.”

“I can see that.”

“So, you come here often, Potter?” Draco asked.

“Now and then,” Harry answered.

“We were watching you...from up there,” Draco said, nodding up toward the second floor catwalk.

Harry followed his gesture, then grinned back at his dance partner. “Were you now?”

“Hot display you put on with that twink.”

Harry just laughed. “He was...acceptable.”

“More than acceptable, I’d say,” came a voice from behind Harry.

It turned out to be Blaise Zabini and Draco grinned at his friend—then frowned when Blaise moved close and joined their little dance.

“In fact,” Blaise went on, “he sort of looked like Draco.”

Both Draco and Harry instantly stopped dancing and glared at the darker man. “He did not!” they exclaimed in unison.

Blaise burst out laughing. “Come on, you two. I’m parched. Let’s go get a drink. For old time’s sake.” Turning, he walked away, leaving the other two to follow—and they did.

-oOo-

“I think I’m going to...you know...askMalfoytomarryme,” Harry said quickly and—mostly under his breath—then coughed at the end in an attempt to distract his friends. It didn’t work.

Ron instantly choked on the tea he’d just consumed, then swallowed hard and clunked his cup down on the table. “Um. Come again?”

Harry didn’t respond because he could tell, by the sick look on his friend’s face, that Ron had heard and understood him just fine.

Hermione, patting Ron’s back, looked at their friend. “Are you sure, Harry, because...I’m certain we could find someone else for you?” She eyed him worriedly. “Someone you’d really like. Someone with whom you could actually fall in love.”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I think I’m sure.”

“But, mate, Malfoy’s a complete git,” Ron protested. “Why would you want to...fulfill the marriage law with him?” He shuddered.

“Well, ahh...he sort of hot,” Harry admitted.

Ron made show of retching, which caused Hermione to roll her eyes.

“And...well, I’ve run into him a few times and...he wasn’t so bad,” Harry confessed. “Not an arse at all.”

“Run into him? Where did this happen and why haven’t you told us about it?” Hermione queried, her brows arching up.

“Um. Well, I’ve been going to this nightclub a few nights a week. In London. You know, dance until I’m ready to drop.” He grinned. “And it seems that Malfoy and Blaise Zabini like the same place. So, I...I’ve danced with them.”

Ron gaped. “You did what?!”

Harry opened his mouth to repeat himself, but Ron held up a hand and shook his head.

“I heard you. Merlin, I heard you,” said Ron, looking disgusted. “I just... I just don’t believe this. I mean...we’re talking about Malfoy here. Are you feeling okay, Harry? Have you hit your head or something?”

Harry laughed. “I’m fine, Ron.”

“Maybe they...Imperio’d you...or s-something,” Ron stammered.

Harry laughed again. “I assure you, Ron, they did not.”

“But—”

“All right, Harry,” Hermione interrupted. “We just want you to be happy, so...how do you think you’ll go about this? Propose, I mean.”

Ron stared at his girlfriend like she’d grown a second head, but Harry swallowed hard, then replied. “Er. Well, I’ve not really thought that far ahead,” he said. “Do you think I actually have to...propose?”

Biting her lip, the bushy-haired woman moved her head in an affirmative way. “Well, this is Draco Malfoy we’re talking about.”

Harry sighed. “Right. I see your point.”

“Have you at least spoken to him about it?” she asked.

“Um. No.”

“Well then, maybe that’s where you should start. See if he’s at least amenable to the idea. Otherwise it’s sort of point—”

“Wait a minute!” Ron interrupted. “Wait just a minute! Seriously, Hermione? Are you seriously suggesting that Harry, our Harry, marry that tosser?! Much less get down on a knee and ask for his hand? That’s just...ew.”

Hermione shrugged. “It’s up to Harry. If he thinks he can live with the man, then....” She shrugged again.

Ron looked horrified. “Not just live with him. He’d have to...to...you know.” He shuddered.

Harry chuckled. “You do know I’ve had sex with men before, right, Ron?

Ron pulled a face. “Don’t remind me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked up as the door swung open and Ginny breezed in.

“Hiya, guys! What’d I miss?” she asked. Then, seeing the look on everyone’s faces, she repeated her question. “Uh-oh, what’d I miss?”

“Harry thinks he’s found someone,” was Hermione’s cautious response as she got up to prepare a cup of tea for Ginny.

“Oh. That’s great, Harry!” the redhead said, enthusiastically throwing her arms around their friend and squeezing him, then sitting down and looking at him expectantly. “Okay, who is it?”

Ron snorted. “It is not so great!”

Hermione sighed. “Ron’s not so pleased about the bloke Harry’s considering.”

Ginny frowned. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Actually, it can be,” Ron said as he dropped his head to the table. “It is.”

“Well? Are you guys going to tell me or what?”

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, then at Harry.

“I’m...ahh...thinking about...Malfoy,” the green-eyed man said.

Ginny’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open.

“See!” Ron bellowed, sitting up straight. “Even Ginny thinks it’s a bad idea, Harry. You just...can’t do this.”

“Wait. I didn’t say it’s a bad idea, I’m just...surprised.” Ginny glared at her brother, then looked at Harry. “I mean, you guys don’t actually get along, Harry. You and Malfoy have been at each other’s throats since you were kids. Are you serious about this?”

“I...I think so,” he said, nodding. “I mean, obviously it’s going to be awkward...given our past...but...well, he’s hot.”

Ginny giggled. “I hate to admit it, but that’s actually quite true.”

Ron made another retching sound—which earned him a glare from both his sister and his girlfriend.

“Are you going to go to his parents and ask for his hand?” Ginny asked.

“W-what?!”

“Well, they’re pure-bloods, so it’ll be expected. The Malfoys might take it as an insult if you don’t.”

Harry swallowed. “Um. Well, I’ve already been visited by his mother, so I’m not sure that it would be necessary...to ask them.”

“Hmm. Maybe not. Merlin, wouldn’t that be just...awful?” Ginny said, grimacing. “To have to contact them, then go and make your intentions known.” She giggled for a second, then...her eyes narrowed. “Wait. Did Mrs Malfoy call in her left-debt on you?”

Harry shook his head. “No. She said Draco had forbidden it. I know him enough to know that he’d want her to save it.”

Now Ron’s eyes narrowed. “Draco? Since when is Malfoy Draco to you?”

Running a hand through his messy black hair, Harry sighed. “If I’m going to marry the bloke, I ought to be able to use his given name, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Ron agreed somewhat skeptically. “But, mate...really?”

Harry nodded—much more firmly than he had before. “Yeah. I think I’ll do this.”

-oOo-

On Saturday night, Draco found himself out clubbing with Blaise again. They loved Babylon—the lights, the music, the drinks, the...hot, half-naked bodies, bumping and grinding on the dance floor.

“I WONDER WHERE POTTER IS,” the darker man shouted as he rubbed himself up against his friend.

“I HAVE NO IDEA,” was the blond’s casual response.

Blaise snorted. “COME ON, DRACO, I KNOW YOU LIKE IT WHEN HE SHOWS.”

Draco shrugged. “HE’LL BE HERE. He always is.”

Blaise chucked. “WELL, WELL, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL,” he said, nodding toward the bar. “OH. AND LOOK WHO’S HE’S BROUGHT WITH HIM.”

Draco turned and, seeing the Weasel, the Mudblood, and the Weaselette, he scowled. “WHAT. THE. FUCK?!”

Grinning, Blaise leaned in close to his friend, so that he didn’t have to shout. “Be nice, Draco...that might just be your new family,” he said, snickering at the look of horror he saw on his friend’s face when he took a step back.

“Fuck. You. Blaise!”

But his friend just continued to laugh. “LOOKIE, LOOKIE. APPEARS POTTER’S HEADED OUR WAY.”

While trying to make a nonchalant glance over his shoulder, Draco frowned. Sure enough, Potter’s eyes were set on them and he was weaving his way through the crowd—his friends waiting behind at the bar, thank Salazar!

“Fuck!”

“Hey, Malfoy. Zabini,” said Harry as he maneuvered himself between them. He’d briefly looked at Draco’s friend, but faced the blond, making it perfectly clear with whom he’d come to dance.

“POTTER,” Blaise acknowledged, giving the newcomer a nod. “I SEE YOU’VE BROUGHT THE SIDEKICKS. YOUR FRIENDS, I MEAN.”

Ignoring the Slytherin’s slip of tongue, Harry nodded, but kept his eyes on the blond. “YEP! THEY INSISTED.”

“Hmm. WELL THEN, THREE’S A CROWD, I THINK. I’M GOING TO GO SEE IF THE SHE-WEASEL WANTS TO DANCE.”

“GOOD LUCK WITH THAT!” Harry called out, his eyes never straying from Draco’s gray gaze. “So, Draco,” said Harry, his hands going to the blond’s belt loops and pulling him so that their bodies were pressed up against one another, “having a good night?”

Shocked to hear his given name, Draco covered it up by grinding his hips into the other man’s. “It’s not been bad,” he said with a shrug. “What’s with the entourage?” he asked, his eyes briefly going to the bar—where Blaise seemed to be hitting up Ginevra Weasley, much to Ron Weasley’s obvious disgust—then back to Harry’s.

Harry shrugged. “Like I said, they insisted.”

At this point the music changed, causing them to have to make a decision. The somewhat slower song meant, leave the dance floor or...wrap themselves around each other and continue. Before Draco could do or say anything, Harry’d curled an arm around his waist and leaned in so that his lips were nearly on the blond’s ear.

“Look, Malfoy...Draco...I’d like to ask you something. We’re...ahh...both sort of trapped, with the new marriage law coming into being and all...and I...well, I was wondering if you’d...you know...be willing to marry me?”

Blinking, Draco pushed the dark-haired man back. “Are you kidding me?”

“Um. No.”

“And you’re asking me this...proposing to me, in the middle of the dance floor at a club?”

Harry frowned. “That’s bad, huh?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Draco just stood there glaring.

“Hmm. Hermione and Ginny were right, I guess,” Harry said, scratching his head and frowning. “Right then. Forget I asked,” he said, spinning on his heel and starting away.

Draco just gaped at him—for a second—then he started forward and grabbed Harry’s shirt. “And now you’re just walking away from me?” he accused.

“Well, you said no.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“You didn’t say yes,” Harry countered.

“You didn’t ask properly.”

Harry frowned. “You mean...you want me to go ask your parents? Please don’t make me ask your parents.”

Amused, Draco stifled a laugh. But he couldn’t help smiling. “No, I don’t expect that, but...Merlin, Potter, even you should be able to do better than shouting a proposal in my ear while out clubbing.”

Blushing, Harry nodded, mumbling, “I didn’t shout.”

Draco ignored him and continued. “And...there’s a certain piece of jewelry that’s traditionally supposed to accompany a proposal. Though, given your taste in apparel...and lack of adornments,” Draco said, eyeing the dark-haired man’s jewelry-less ears, neck, wrists, and fingers, “I think maybe I’d like to pick out my own...if you don’t mind.”

Harry blinked. “Is that...a yes?”

Draco huffed. “You could have taken me out to dinner to ask.”

“So?”

“And I think we should fuck first...to see if we’re even compatible.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s not all about fucking, Draco.”

“We’re gay men, Potter, yes it is! And, since when do you call me Draco?”

Harry laughed and reached to pull the man close again. “I figured that, if I was going to fulfill the marriage law with you, then I ought to be able to use your name.”

“I haven’t accepted your atrocious proposal, Potter.”

“Yet,” said Harry.

“Hmm.”

“So...is that a yay or nay, Malfoy?” Harry asked, grinding their hips together.

“Well, I don’t know, Potter. This is an important decision for me and you expect me to answer without even getting a taste of you,” he said, punctuating his sentence by licking up the column of Harry’s neck. “You actually taste quite good, but—”

“Go out with me then...on a date,” said Harry. “We’ll go out to dinner and a movie.”

“What’s a movie?”

“It’s...never mind, I’ll take you out and show you. It would be fun. What do you say?”

Draco didn’t respond for a while. Instead, he finished out the song, his body flush with Harry’s, their hearts beating with the music—and more. When the song ended though, and another one started, Draco stepped back. “If you send me an owl with the details, then I’ll accept your invitation to dinner...and this movie thing.”

Grinning, Harry nodded. “Brilliant!”

“Don’t get too excited, Potter, I haven’t said yes to anything else,” the blond said as he turned and started away.

“Yet,” Harry said again.

-oOo-

From the bar, Ron Weasley tried—and failed—to not to stare over at the dance floor, where is best friend was doing something that sort of resembled dancing, but really looked much more like fucking with his clothes on...with Draco Malfoy.

“Disgusting,” he grumbled as he picked up his drink and took a gulp.

“Honestly, Ronald, I didn’t know you were such a homophobe,” said Hermione, who’d also been watching Harry on the dance floor—but with a smile. Now her arms were crossed over her chest and she was glaring.

“I AM NOT!” Ron protested—loudly. “I mean...Charlie. Gay! But this...this is....” He waved at the dance floor. “It’s just...Malfoy!”

The woman rolled her eyes, sipped her lovely fruity alcoholic beverage, and turned to look back at her dancing friends—both Harry and Ginny looked like they were having a great time.

“Well, it is!” Ron insisted, his glare going from one Slytherin man to the other, then to Hermione “And...Zabini? I thought Gin hated that twat! Called him a poser, if I remember correctly. More than once. And just recently.”

Hermione laughed. “You remember correctly. However, she’s clearly enjoying herself.”

At this comment Ron’s eyes traveled the short distance over to his sister—where he saw her dancing in a similar fashion with the darker Slytherin. “OH! My eyes!” he howled, then turned and downed his drink.

“What are you...like fifteen again?” his girlfriend asked. “I think it’s hot.”

Ron coughed. “You do?”

Hermione nodded. “Yep!” she said, practically bouncing in her seat as she watched.

Frowning, Ron’s eyes went back to those dancing. He tried to see what his girlfriend was seeing, but just...couldn’t. Grimacing, he shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

Chuckling, Hermione reached over and patted his leg. “That’s fine, Ron,” she said, smiling at him. “Do you want to call it a night?”

“I don’t think we should leave Gin.”

“Ron. Ginny’s a grown-up now and...look at her...she’s having a grand time.”

Ron’s gaze went back to his sister. She was wrapped around Blaise Zabini and laughing at something the man had said to her.

“I thought he was gay,” he grumbled.

“No, as you pointed out recently, he’s bisexual.”

“And a pure-blood, so...he can’t have Ginny.” He sighed—happily.

Hermione laughed. “Come on, Ron. Let’s go,” she said as she got to her feet and grabbed her jacket.

-oOo-

Harry had taken the blond out twice before and, surprisingly, it had gone nicely each time. The first date was dinner and a movie, as Harry’d promised. He let Draco choose the restaurant and didn’t complain when the man ordered the most expensive meal and wine on the menu. Draco was testing him, of course, but...Harry could afford it, so he didn’t care. It certainly wasn’t a deal-breaker, considering the spot they were both in, and...it seemed to make the blond happy, so that was good. Harry wanted something, after all...he wanted the blond to accept his proposal and so he’d put up with almost anything. The movie, however, was Harry’s choice—and Draco seemed to love that too.

The second date was lunch and a shopping trip. Well, a window shopping trip...because Harry wanted to see what kinds of things the other man liked. But first lunch. They ate at the Leaky, much to Draco’s annoyance—he complained that it was too noisy and the food was greasy. Harry just laughed and dug into his food, washing his meal down with a pint and reminding the blond that not everything would be about him. Draco snorted, then pouted some—and was gifted with ice cream afterwards, because Harry thought he was “cute,” which also annoyed the gray-eyed man, causing him to eat his ice cream in silence as they walked from shop to shop—Harry taking note of everything he looked at, including jewelry.

But tonight—date three—they’d just stayed in. Harry’d invited Draco back to his house where he’d ordered take away and rented some movies to watch on the telly. Draco was fascinated by the Muggle television, thinking that it might just be magic. Chuckling, Harry had poured the other man a glass of wine—the same kind they’d had in the restaurant—and plopped himself down on the sofa next to the blond to watch the movie. A couple hours later Harry opened his eyes to the credits rolling.

“Merlin!” he exclaimed. “I fell asleep.”

“That boring, am I?” said Draco, pouting just a little.

Harry shook his head. “No. Not at all. Long day at work. I guess I was tired.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry.”

Draco shrugged. “You missed a good moobie.”

“Movie,” Harry corrected, hiding a smile as he shifted on the sofa to face the other man.

Draco waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. It was good. Believable characters. Interesting plot. Muggles come up with odd shite though.”

Laughing, Harry nodded. “I know, right? And yeah, I know it’s a good movie...I’ve actually seen it before.”

“If you’ve already seen it, then why’d you want to watch it again?” the blond asked with a frown—then added, “Or not watch it, as the case may be.”

Harry chuckled. “Because I thought you’d like it. And again, sorry about falling asleep.”

“Hmm. Know my tastes already, do you?”

Harry laughed some more. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you since we were eleven, Malfoy...I think I know you at least a little by now. Don’t you think?”

Draco smirked. “I suppose.”

Harry just smiled.

“Well,” Draco said as he got to his feet, “I guess I should go. Thank you for the interesting Muggle food and the movie. It was nice.”

Getting to his feet as well, Harry frowned. “You’re leaving? So early? But...we have a second movie to watch.”

“You’re tired.”

“And I was hoping....” Harry let his words trail off.

“What were you hoping, Potter?”

“That...maybe you’d stay tonight.”

Draco blinked. “You want to fuck.” It was a statement.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Must you be so crude?”

“Always.”

Laughing, Harry reached out and touched the hem of Draco’s shirt. “I...ahh...think your compatibility idea has merit,” he said nervously. “I mean...what if we’re not and we end up stuck with each other. That would be bad.”

The blond nodded. “I concur.” 

“So...?”

“Well, maybe we should talk about some things first.”

Not liking the sound of that, Harry frowned and dropped his fingers from Draco’s shirt. “Like...what?” he asked hesitantly, sitting back down on the sofa.

“Like, if we do this...fulfill this moronic marriage law with each other,” the blond clarified, “where would we live?”

“Oh. Um. I was thinking we could live here,” Harry said, gesturing about the room.

His eyes going around the room, Draco grimaced. “In this grim old place?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, Grimmauld Place is a Black family home...or was until I inherited it...and you’re a Black through your mother, so...makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose. It’s just a bit...antiquated for my tastes,” said Draco as he too sat back down. “I’m surprised you even like it here, Potter. It’s very dark and...Slytheriny in here.”

Harry laughed. “Despite the fact that I was a Gryffindor, I prefer green.”

“Hmm. It suits you too...with those eyes.”

“Plus, this was the Order’s headquarters for a while. And...we stayed here while on the run during seventh year.”

“Who we?” Draco queried.

“Ron and Hermione and I.

“Figures.”

“Anyway, I’m comfortable here. It was Sirius’ home and he left it to me...sort of have to like it. I’m actually surprised you don’t,” said Harry, smiling. “I mean, I thought you pure-bloods liked things to be old and stuffy.”

Draco snorted. “I’ll have you know that Mother redecorates regularly. This house, however, is archaic,” he said, glancing around and grimacing—again. “And dusty.”

“Kreacher’s old; he does the best he can.”

“Creature?”

“House-elf. Came with the house,” said Harry. “Actually, I had him spy on you back in school.”

Draco nodded. “Oh yes, I vaguely remember Kreacher now. Mother said something about him coming to the Manor.” Then, putting the pieces together, the blond frowned. “Wait.”

“Yes. Sirius accidentally gave him permission to leave the house. He went to your house and betrayed the Order, then tricked me into going to the Ministry...which ended up getting Sirius killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

Harry shrugged.

“And you allow him to stay here?”

Shrugging again, Harry said, “This is Kreacher’s home. Always has been. He’s better now. Doesn’t seem to hate me anymore and...well, it wouldn’t be very nice to free him at this point.”

“Hmm.” Draco glanced around. “Where is the little bugger?”

“Around. I don’t ask him to do much.”

“Well, that’s obvious.”

Harry chuckled. “Anyway, you can redecorate if you want,” Harry offered. “I’d like to have some say in whatever you do, but...yeah. What do you think?”

“I think there’s a lot to do here,” the blond said as he started mentally making changes.

“It’s just that I’d really like to live in London,” Harry continued, “because I work here and all.”

“Ever heard of Apparation?”

Harry snorted. “Of course. I do it, but I don’t like it much. I’m much better with shorter distances.”

“How can you be an Auror and not be able to Apparate?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I said I can...it’s just that I sometimes get headaches from Apparating too far.”

“Hmm. That’s another thing, Potter. Your job is dangerous. What would happen to me if you were killed on the job? My name would be put back into the marriage pool and I’d have to go through all this being forced into a marriage again. I don’t like it.”

“You’d want me to quit my job?”

Draco shrugged.

“But...I like being an Auror. I’m good at it.”

“I’m sure you are. I’m also sure you’re good at other things.”

Harry scoffed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, come on, there has to be something else.”

“I wonder if a contract could be written up,” Harry said—mostly to himself. “I mean, the Ministry’s forcing young people into these marriages, but maybe there’s a way to negotiate things in that we want.”

Draco frowned. “What do you mean, exactly?”

“What I’m saying is that, since they’re forcing this ridiculousness on us, shouldn’t we get something out of it?”

“I’m thinking brilliant sex with a hot husband is what we’d be getting out of it.”

Harry laughed. “Well, thanks for that, but we don’t actually know if that first part is true...since we’ve yet to enter the bedroom.”

Draco smirked. “Of course it’s true...on my end anyway.”

Harry’s brow raised. “You’ve had sex with yourself, have you?”

“Absolutely and I’m brilliant.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Arrogant twat.”

“So, you’re thinking to make the Ministry sign some sort of agreement,” Draco said, returning to the matter at hand. “We allow ourselves to be forced into this marriage thing...like we really have a choice...if they what?”

“Well, for one, we do have a choice. We could volunteer to leave the wizarding world...or let them kick us out.”

Draco shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. For me anyway.”

Harry grinned. “Me neither. I love magic.”

“And I don’t know any way to live without it.”

“Fine then, we could...leave the country. Charlie Weasley lives in Romania and apparently the Ministry can’t touch him there.”

“True. My family has properties in France and Blaise said I could stay at his family’s home in Italy, but...I’m not sure I could spend day in and day out with Blaise. I mean, he’s my friend, but he’s a bit of a twat. And I’m not especially fond of France so...I don’t think I want to do either of those things.”

Harry laughed. “Neither do I. All right, putting those choices aside...the Ministry has to agree that, should one party die, the other is free; he or she can’t be forced into another loveless marriage.”

Draco scoffed. “The Ministry doesn’t have to agree to anything.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Okay. They should agree to this. It would be fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Potter.”

“No, it’s not. But it should be.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “All right. Suppose they do agree. But...what if one were to kill the other, just to get out of unwanted marriage? I can see that happening.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You can see one of us murdering the other?”

Draco brow twitched. “No, you idiot. I don’t mean us, I meant other people. Though, if you continue to make assumptions like that in the future, I can see myself wanting to dispose of you. And quickly.”

Laughing, Harry nodded. “Noted. Well, maybe the prenuptial agreement only covers accidental death or...on the job death. Or something. I don’t know. But not murder.”

“Prenuptial agreement?”

“Yeah...but an agreement with the Ministry instead of one between us.”

Draco nodded. “My parents will probably want you to agree to a few things in writing as well.”

Harry frowned. “Worried I might be after the Malfoy fortune?”

Draco shrugged. “You could be. That sort of thing...marrying for money...happens.”

“You do realize I have more Galleons than I know what to do with, right?”

“Do you?” Draco asked, surprised.

Harry nodded. “I don’t have as much as your family does, but I have more than enough. More than I could ever spend on my own.”

“Hmm. Why were you always dressed like a pauper then? Back in school, I mean.”

“Because my aunt and uncle hated me and wouldn’t let me have anything,” Harry explained. “But I have plenty of money.”

“Why do you work then?”

“I like working.”

“Your job is dangerous,” Draco stated plainly.

“Back to that, are we?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. “If we’re going to do this, I’d really rather my husband not turn up dead one day.”

Frowning, Harry got up and started pacing. “I’m not quitting my job, Malfoy.”

“But...what happens when we have children?”

Harry immediately halted. “Er. What now? Did you say...children?”

Draco nodded.

“Um. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Malfoy, but...we’re both men. Two penises does not a baby make.”

Draco snorted. “Charming, Potter. However, and I cannot believe I’m going to say this, but...more important than our cocks is the fact that we’re wizards. We can have children without the hindrance of having to bed a female. Thank Merlin,” he said, making a show of shuddering.

Harry dropped back onto the sofa. “We can?”

Draco nodded.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. And that’s the only reason my father is at all accepting of his one and only heir being a homosexual,” the blond said with a smirk—then turned serious. “So, back to that job of yours.”

“Fine! I’ll quit if we have children,” Harry relented. “Happy now?”

“Hmm. When.”

“When what?”

“When we have children. Not if.”

Harry frowned. “Kind of putting the cart before the horse, aren’t ya, Malfoy?”

Draco shook his head. “No. An heir is a must. We have to agree on that.”

“Okay. Well, I do want children, but not for a while.”

“Just making sure. And that’s fine. I’m not ready either.”

Harry frowned. “How many children are we talking about?”

“Well, only one is required,” the blond responded, “but two would be acceptable.”

“An heir and a spare?” queried Harry.

Draco chuckled—the narrowed his eyes. “Why? How many were you hoping to have someday?”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Several. Three, at least. Maybe more.”

“Hmm. All right,” said Draco. “Since we’re discussing this, we might as well nail down who’s going to carry them.”

Harry stared at him blankly for a second, then scratched his head. “Er. I just found out that wizards can have babies and you want me to consider being the one to carry ours?”

The blond shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” he said, liking that sound of ‘ours.’

“Because...this is insane!” Harry burst, rubbing his temples. “And I think I’m getting a headache.”

Draco chuckled again. “Fine then, I would be willing to have the first one. My parents would probably prefer that, because then they’d know it was truly mine. But you have to carry the second child.”

Harry was nodding—until he realized what had been said. “Hey! I would never be unfaithful,” he protested. “And I resent that sort of accusation.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Potter. Just stating a fact...as would be seen from the point of view of my parents. They’re very much traditionalists...as much as they can be when their only son is gay as blazes. Hell, if I weren’t gay and it was possible for me to be impregnated by a woman, they would have suggested that. But that’s not possible and I am gay.”

Harry swallowed hard, then nodded. “Okay. Sorry.”

“You had better be.”

“So, are you staying then?” Harry asked.

His eyes twinkling, Draco smirked. “That desperate to get into my trousers?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Malfoy, don’t stay then!” Harry snapped, thinking the gray-eyed man to be exhausting.

Pursing his lips, the blond sighed. “I’d like to stay...really, I would...I’m just not sure if I should. It’s so soon.”

Harry laughed. “Stay and I promise to be a complete gentlemen...if that’s what you want.”

“Hmm.”

“I just...want to see what it would be like to wake up next to you,” Harry went on.

Draco smiled. “That would be nice.”

“So what do you think?”

“I can stay,” the blond said after a short pause, “but, as much as I want to...test our compatibility...let’s wait just a little bit longer, yeah?”

Harry nodded. “I can do that.”

-oOo-

The next morning Harry woke up to find Draco sprawled out beside him, one arm flung out on the bed, the other draped over his own bare stomach. The blond was shirtless and the sheet had slipped down, revealing his left hip bone and the top of that thigh—and Harry grinned, remembering that, while they’d not had actual sex, he’d been able to get Draco out of his clothes the night before. Further down, one slender foot was also peeking out from the sheet—the other was hidden.

Harry continued to smile. They’d gone to bed after watching just half of their second movie and fell asleep lying on their backs, side by side, fingers entwined. They’d kissed a little, but had managed to hold off of other things. Well, most other things. There’s been some touchy-feely, but they’d managed to restrain themselves. It was nice...and really hard—and not Harry’s usual M.O. And, knowing the blond as he did, it wasn’t Draco’s either.

Rolling to his side, Harry went up onto an elbow and stared down at the sleeping man. Unconscious, the blond’s face was completely relaxed—no lines of worry, no snarky twist to his features—and not so pointed, Harry realized. Smiling—Harry couldn’t seem to stop smiling—he stared at the sleeping man’s lips for a moment. They were pink and slightly parted—and Harry desperately wanted to take them with his own. He resisted urge only because he didn’t want to wake the man in his bed—and possibly cause him to run off. Draco was a busy man, after all, and might have something else he’d rather being doing.

Still smiling, Harry’s eyes traveled up to Draco’s pale hair—hair, which was usually perfectly sculpted, was now uncharacteristically mussed. It was sexy as hell! Harry couldn’t help himself; he reached out and touched it—then ran a finger down Draco’s jaw line, feeling the slight stubble of growth which had not been there the night before. Draco didn’t stir.

And so, no longer caring if he woke his bed mate, Harry moved his hand to the sleeping man’s chest and lightly caressed him—then leaned in and sprinkled kisses there. When his lips moved over Draco’s nipple, he took it into his mouth, teasing it until it hardened—and slipped his hand down and under the sheet, finding exactly what he wanted—Draco’s morning wood. This made the blond moan.

“Good morning, Potter,” Draco groaned as he shifted so that his legs were further apart, giving Harry better access.

Harry sucked harder, gaining a gasp from the blond lying next to him, then spoke. “Can’t you use my name for once?” he asked.

Chuckling, Draco opened his eyes. “I did use your name.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I mean my first name, you dolt,” he said, slipping his fingers down over the sensitive skin of Draco’s bollocks and running them lightly over the blond’s unprepared hole.

Shivering slightly, Draco smirked—and wriggled.

“I can’t fuck someone with whom I’m not on a first name basis,” said Harry—but he continued to kiss Draco’s chest and fondle his....

“And who said you would be doing the fucking, Potter?” Draco asked, his gray eyes narrowing—then he squirmed as the man molesting him whispered something, then steadily pushed a very lubricated finger into his body.

“I say, Draco,” Harry all but growled.

Draco wanted to snort and toss out something snarky, but he couldn’t seem to focus—not with Harry Potter’s finger firmly up his arse and probing thoroughly. This went on for a while—and it was wonderful.

Writhing under the onslaught, Draco felt a warm wetness engulf his cock. This instantly caused his eyes to snap open. “All right. You can fuck me. This time, Potter,” he acquiesced. “Next t-time it’s my turn. So, come on now. Stop f-fucking about and let’s do this.”

Dazed himself, Harry pulled back. “I need to hear my name first.”

“Potter,” the blond said warningly; he was tired of waiting.

Harry shook his head. “Nope. Wrong again,” he said as he brushed over the other man’s prostate, then withdrew his finger completely.

Draco winced at the loss. “Please. Don’t stop.”

Grinning, Harry licked the head of Draco’s cock—just once—then said, “And my name is...?”

“All bloody right!” the blond burst. “Come on, Harry! Fuck me. Please, I need to have you in me,” he begged.

Wasting no time, Harry shoved the sheets completely off the other man and maneuvered himself so that he was between Draco’s legs, his cock ready to push inside. He felt like he’d been waiting forever for this, but before going further, Harry paused. “Are you sure, Draco?” he breathlessly asked the man under him. He didn’t want this to be a mistake. He needed verification.

Nodding, Draco pushed his body toward Harry’s, wiggling when he felt Harry’s cock brush against his hole. “Yes, Potter...Harry...I’m sure. Please.”

And so Harry rocked his hips forward. Pushing his cock slowly into Draco’s body, he paused when he was fully seated, watching the blond carefully for any sign that he’d changed his mind.

“I’ve not changed my mind,” said Draco, as if he’d read Harry’s thoughts.

And so Harry started to move, thrusting gently into the blond’s body with slow, sure strokes. He spent a short time trying different angles until he found the one that caused the blond to gasp.

“There it is,” he whispered, snapping his hips forward to connect with it again—this time with much more force.

Beneath him, Draco moaned and his eyes rolled back into his head, and Harry watched him closely as he repeatedly battered Draco’s prostate. He could tell the man was going to come without even having his cock touched—and so he doubled his efforts. Halting his movements briefly, Harry shifted one of Draco’s legs up and over his shoulder, then started in again. The new position allowed him to drive deeper into the other man’s body, thus intensifying the pleasure for both of them. Harry panted heavily as he worked himself into and out of Draco’s body over and over again, the walls of the blond’s rectum embracing and stroking his length perfectly. Whimpering, Draco opened his eyes and stared into Harry’s.

“I have to...come,” he whined, his eyes closing again.

Harry smiled, because it sounded like the blond was asking for permission. “Then come,” he said as he whipped his hips forward a few more times. “I’m ready.”

A look of relief crossed Draco’s features as he exploded, splashing their chests with his essence—then, his arse clenching as his pleasure spread through him, Draco somehow managed to open his eyes long enough to watch as Harry found his release. The dark-haired man’s eyes were open and they sparkled like emeralds, but Draco thought it unlikely the man could see anything—they had a faraway look to them as he groaned, his hips giving a few spasmodic jerks before he collapsed bonelessly onto Draco’s body.

“That was...brilliant,” said Harry, their bodies still joined—though the softening of his cock would soon cause it to slip from Draco’s well-used hole.

Draco nodded—or tried to. “I concur,” he said. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it—and he wanted to do it again and again for the rest of his days.

As their bodies separated naturally, Harry rolled to his back and took up one of Draco’s hands, then glanced at him. “Really?”

“Do you want me to tell you that you’re a spectacular fuck, Harry?”

Harry chuckled. “No. I know I’m good. I just—”

“Arrogant twat!”

Harry grinned. “I don’t mean to be...but—”

“Anyway...?”

“Right. Anyway, I assumed that you don’t bottom often, so...I just wanted to be sure it was good for you.”

Draco smiled. “It was good for me, Potter. Better than good.”

Harry continued to grin.

“And next time, we turn the tables,” the blond went on, “because I want a piece of your arse.”

“So, does this mean you’ve decided to accept my proposal?”

“Hmm. I suppose,” Draco drawled.

-oOo-

As it turned out Draco and Harry were given extra time to comply with the marriage law. Draco’s June 5th birthday should have had him married by September 3rd, due to his pure-blood status (90 days); however, because he and Harry had signed a binding contract and filed the paperwork as soon as the details had been worked out, they’d been allowed to use Harry’s birth date of July 31st and his half-blood status (180 days), giving them until January 27th the following year. Further, Kingsley agreed to the terms that neither of them—or anyone else, for that matter—would be forced into this again, should their spouse die of natural causes or an true accident. Things seemed to be working out.

And so, on Monday, January 23, 2006, just a few days before the deadline, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were married at the Ministry by the Minister for Magic himself. Draco’s parents were present, and stood as witnesses for them, as were/did Mr and Mrs Weasley. Both Narcissa and Molly were tearful as they watched the two young men tie the knot—while Lucius and Arthur spent much of the time glaring at one another. But there were no mishaps, so that was good. A few friends also attended the quick ceremony. Obviously Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were there on Harry’s side, while Blaise, Pansy, and Theo attended for Draco.

And that was that!

Well, not really. There was still the future. Draco and Harry quickly found out that they were compatible in all ways. More than compatible! It was hard to believe that, after years and years of animosity, this forced marriage thing could be so wonderful, but...it was. It truly was.

And eventually, they went on to create a family. As promised, Draco carried the first child; a brown-haired, blue-eyed baby boy whom they named Sirius. Then, a year later, Harry followed that up twins; Scorpius and Severus, the former as blond and pale at Draco, the latter with black hair and green eyes just like Harry. And finally came Lily, a precious blue-eyed baby girl...with red hair—much to Draco’s chagrin—just like her namesake.

For a while they talked about having more children, but...why? Everything was perfect.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my crazy little story, everyone. Sorry for the quirkiness of it. Couldn’t seem to get the story out of my head...other than to write it down and post it. If you see any glaring errors...grammar, spelling, typos, usage (or other)...please let me know. And also...please, please, please say SOMETHING!


End file.
